Bliss took care of abandoned lackeys.

The Hidden World was a dangerous place for those with ambitions. Normalcy was always there, ready to brutally keep in check anything that might reveal the Hidden World’s secrets to the wider populace. Yet at the same time, it seemed to draw the ambitious. Something about the supernatural seemed to entice those who would seek power, or perhaps it brought out the desire to seek power in those who otherwise wouldn’t. Either way, it was a world full of plotters, each trying to outdo one another. Overlords and masterminds rose and fell quickly, often leaving behind rudderless followers.

Followers like me.

My introduction to the Hidden World was my abduction, and my return was my introduction to Normalcy and how the Hidden World remained hidden. As I sat in a chair in a windowless cell, a disembodied voice explained the rules. I would not be permitted to return to my hometown or contact my family. I would not be permitted to tell anyone outside of the Hidden World about the Hidden World or demonstrate any ability, technology, or life form designated as its domain. I would be permitted access to any Hidden World Enclaves and permission to retain memory of anything seen within except for Normalcy secrets. Violation of any of these rules could result in memory erasure, depowering, confiscation of property, or execution.

Then I was set loose in an Enclave of a city I’d never seen, on a planet I hadn’t seen in a decade with no resources or guidance. I was disoriented and unwilling to accept how my life had changed, still expecting my queen to appear before me and welcome me back into the soft embrace of her tendrils with quiet, comforting thoughts of apology. I wandered into a cafe where I sat, waiting and shivering, until a concerned barista asked if I needed help. From there I was shuffled around to several people in several cafes, bars, and one sex shop, until someone finally contacted Bliss and she was there, standing by a display of butt plugs, shifting her weight on and off her prosthetic leg, hair mussed and hands in the pockets of the labcoat she wore over her pajamas. She argued with the acquaintance who had called her, repeating things like “Why didn’t you just take him to a hotel?” and “What is everyone else going to think when I bring home a half-dressed man none of us have even met?” Eventually, however, she gave in and took me home.